


It’s Comedy and it’s Tragedy and it’s Ours

by shipNslash



Series: I’m Gonna Love Ya Till the Heavens Stop the Rain [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: 5 Things, 5+1, 5+1 Things, Dave is trying so hard, Drug Use, Fluff and Angst, Klaus is working on himself, M/M, Misunderstandings, Secrets, Time Travel, Vietnam War, Will I ever plan ahead?, five things, guess this is a series now, original character death, powers, probably not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 19:38:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18534136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipNslash/pseuds/shipNslash
Summary: “Davey! Morning, sleepy head,” Klaus greets, waggling his hand in greeting.“Who, uh,” Dave swallows and glances at the empty bed. “Who’re you talking to?”“Manger?” Klaus explains, confused.And maybe he sees something on Dave’s face or maybe he puts the clues together, but his face goes white and his eyes go wide. “No,” he whispers faintly.~Five times Dave gets a little closer to unlocking Klaus Hargreeves’ Tragic Backstory™ and the one time he manages to figure Klaus out.





	It’s Comedy and it’s Tragedy and it’s Ours

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a series but can be read independently. Enjoy!

~_~_~_~

 

 

_~ One ~ Klaus’ 55th Day in Vietnam ~_

 

Dave and Klaus have been together for a few weeks now and Dave can honesty say he never thought he could be so happy in an active war zone. Not that he’s happy about the war, obviously. Just- Klaus. He doesn’t know what else to say. His eyes, his smile, his laugh. Dave breathes in Klaus like oxygen and he sometimes wonders if kissing Klaus is really that intoxicating or if he’s just getting a contact high from Klaus’ lips. They spend every minute of every day together, from roll call to patrol to mess, and Dave can’t imaging ever tiring of the other man’s presence.

 

If anything, Dave wishes he had more of Klaus. Because sometimes, his green eyes will cloud with fear or he will flinch back from empty air and Dave doesn’t know how to help.

 

When it happens that night at dinner, it’s as unexpected -and heartbreaking- as it always is.

 

Klaus is carving out an apple to make a bong while all the men in their tent crowd over his shoulder to observe -besides for Monty, whose apple has been re-purposed against his will- and Dave would say that pretty much everyone is in a good mood.

 

“See? I told you I could make a bong out of anything,” Klaus tells the men, face screwed up in concentration as he carefully works Dave’s pocket knife.

 

Manger snorts. “Nobody said we didn’t believe you, Spook.”

 

“Boyle did!” Klaus protests, giddy. “He said ‘nobody with the concentration of a toddler could learn something so impressive’.”

 

Dave shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure he said ‘tedious’ not ‘impressive’,” he corrects.

 

“Same thing,” Klaus says dismissively.

 

And then Captain Peterson bursts into the tent. “What’s going on here?!”

 

“Nothing!” Dave yelps as most of the men scatter. “Just, uh-”

 

The officer strides past Dave to Klaus. “What is that for?” He demands, pointing at the whittled fruit.

 

“An apple?” Klaus mutters weakly, visibly flinching back. His face goes a little pale and his shoulders creep up into a diminutive position and Dave panics because he doesn’t recognize this brand of fear on his lover’s face.

 

Captain Peterson snorts. “I said, what. Is that. For?”

 

“An apple!” Klaus all but shrieks, scrambling backwards on his cot. “It’s an apple?”

 

The older man rolls his eyes. “And I’m a dumb-ass. Get rid of it,” he instructs before turning and leaving without further comment.

 

Some of the men mumble about how they got off lucky while Monty snarks about how, “that’s what ya get for stealing a man’s fruit,” and others laugh, relieved.

 

Klaus doesn’t look relieved. Klaus looks petrified. Normally, when Klaus is scared, he flutters around in a ball of anxious energy. Now, he’s frozen. Dave approaches him slowly and rests a gentle hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Hey, Klaus?”

 

“What?!” Klaus jolts upright and looks around with wild eyes. When he takes in his surroundings, he winces and smiles weakly. “Shit, sorry, Dave.”

 

“Are you... okay? Cap wasn’t mad, not really,” Dave tries to assure him.

 

Klaus shakes his head. “I know. I- I’m gonna go for a walk,” he says, voice shaky and near unrecognizable.

 

Dave doesn’t know what to do so he just follows Klaus out of their tent and to the tree line where he watches Klaus discreetly swallow a few pills before collapsing against a mossy tree. They sit in silence for a long while and it isn’t until the drugs kick in that Klaus melts a little, the long lines of his body morphing from rigid and corpse-like to relaxed and pliant.

 

“What’s that for?” He slurs, voice high and humored. “What’s that for, what’s that for, what’s that for?”

 

Dave shifts, uncomfortably aware of how little he knows about the other man. “What’s what for?” He asks, confused.

 

Klaus cackles, the kind of brittle laugh that comes from trying not to cry. “I’m for!”

 

“For... what?” Dave asks, one of his hands reaching out to hesitantly run through messy curls. Klaus’ head lolls back against the meat of Dave’s shoulder and they sit in silence for another moment, Dave waiting and Klaus riding out the beginning of his high.

 

“The fourth umbrella,” is what Klaus whispers when he finally speaks. “The fourth soldier.”

 

Oh. Four, not for. That makes Dave’s memory itch. He thinks back to one of Klaus’ first days in camp; back when the man had still been a patchwork of bruises in mismatched gear, clinging to his suitcase like it was a teddy bear and fumbling through his days in a haze of what Dave now knows was a mixture of drugs and a nasty head wound.

 

_“What’s your number, soldier?” Captain Peterson snarled when he found Klaus wandering around aimlessly._

_Klaus swayed slight in his borrowed boots. “Uh? Four?”_

_“Four?” The captain repeated incredulously. “You’re telling me that your social security number... is four?”_

_The skinny man had nodded eagerly. “Yes, sir!” He’d assured, oblivious to the fact that he was being asked a sarcastic question._

 

In the present, Klaus is busy walking his fingers up Dave’s chest. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven,” he chants, voice going sing-song in cadence. “None of daddy’s soldier are going to heaven.”

 

Dave doesn’t say anything after that, heart in his throat, and soon Klaus drifts off to sleep in his arms, peaceful in way he only is when the drugs are coursing through his veins and he’s run himself to exhaustion. He keeps running his callused fingers through Klaus’ hair until way past when they should have returned back to camp, thinking about what had happened. Obviously the number four is important to Klaus- and in a negative way, if his reaction is anything to go off of. And it has to do with his father. Also in a negative way, but he’d already known that. He‘s no stranger to shitty dads and he’d seen the signs in Klaus almost instantly. The desire to rebel and the simultaneous fear of failure, the overwhelming desire to be better, to be different. It’s all familiar.

 

When he eventually wakes Klaus up to return to their tent, it’s with a gentle kiss to the temple. “Come on, sunshine,” he whispers.

 

“I’m more like the moon,” Klaus grunts into Dave’s chest. “Cold, dead. Just reflecting your light.”

 

“That’s pretty deep for someone who was supposed to be sleeping,” Dave says because if he says anything else, he might cry.

 

The skinny man on his chest stretches like a cat. “I wasn’t sleeping. Just enjoying the free real estate.”

 

That, at least, gives Dave a good reason to laugh. Klaus is jostled when his chest moves and he squints up with pursed lips. “I was comfortable,” he says dryly- but his annoyed expression quickly gives way to fondness as he leans in for a kiss. “Thank you,” he whispers quietly.

 

“Love you,” Dave says back.

 

They stumble into camp way past lights out and try to look like staunch heterosexuals. Or at least, Dave does. There’s never been anything about Klaus that could pass for heterosexual. But as he lies there on his standard issue cot, Dave can’t seem to shake his revelation. What about a number -let alone something as everyday as four- could startle one of the bravest men he’s ever known so much?

 

The next morning, he decides to test his theory.

 

When he walks by Manger’s regular breakfast card game -Klaus trailing after him like a puppy as always- he leans over the man’s shoulder. “Hey, Manger.”

 

“Heya, Digity Dave,” Manger greets as always, flashing his trademark grin. “Wanna join?”

 

“Looks fun,” he says, fishing out his wallet. “What’cha playing for?”

 

Or at least that’s what the other guys probably hear. What he really asks is, “what’cha playing, Four?” And...

 

“Hm?” Klaus mutters distractedly, turning from where he’d been peeking at White’s cards. “What was that, Katz-y?”

 

“Nothing, let’s get some food,” Dave demurs, moving to grab Klaus’ elbow gently.

 

But the skinny man jerks back. “Did you just...?” His eyes go wide with understanding and Dave winces.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says instantly. “I didn’t mean to-”

 

Klaus glares and bites at his quivering lip. “Bull shit. You fucking ass wipe! You did that on purpose!”

 

“Relax, Spook,” Manger says calmly but Klaus doesn’t even notice.

 

He shoves Dave back a step before storming out of the mess tent, frame vibrating with anger. Dave quickly stumbles to follow, swearing under his breath. “Shit! Klaus, hang on,” he yells, weaving through the busy camp to keep up.

 

“Fuck off!” Klaus yells over his shoulder. “Leave me alone!”

 

Dave doesn’t know if he realizes what he’s doing but they’re headed towards the same cluster of trees where they hid last night. When they’re both hidden from view, Dave eagerly wraps his arms around Klaus, only to be roughed shoved away a second time. It sends a trill of panic through Dave and he desperately shakes his head.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to make you mad,” he gushes, hugging his sides to keep from reaching out again.

 

The other man glares as he starts pacing. “No, you just meant to, what? Test me?”

 

Dave shrinks back. “I’m just worried about you. I can’t help if I don’t understand,” he whispers.

 

“Nobody can help me,” Klaus spits venomously. And then, within the same breath, “aw, hell, Davey, I’m sorry. I just-” He looks upwards and mutters something Dave can’t catch. “I’m really broken, you know?” He says after a moment. “I’m broken but I’m trying here and it doesn’t help that you’re just- you’re so smart, Dave. I’m worried you won’t believe me if I told you everything.”

 

“I’d believe anything you told me,” Dave assures him immediately.

 

That makes Klaus snort. “I doubt it. But... let’s start with something small, okay?”

 

Dave nods eagerly and sighs in relief when Klaus takes a step closer, closing that gaping distance between them. “Anything,” he breathes as he reaches out a tentative hand.

 

“I’m still- Fuck. Just say it, Hargreeves,” Klaus mutters and bumps his cheek against Dave’s palm. “I was... adopted. And my adoptive father was a crazy person. Full on comic book villain type stuff, Dave.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Dave says, because Klaus is looking at him with those too-green eyes and all he sees in them is sadness.

 

Klaus smiles weakly at that. “I don’t need you to be sorry. He died. The week I showed up here, actually. Funeral was a blast, wake was a bit of a buzz kill. But that’s not the point. The point is that he adopted seven of us. I was the fourth.”

 

Dave frowns. “The fourth what? Oldest?” He remembers Klaus talking about siblings a few times but there’s never been enough to piece together a full picture.

 

“Just... the fourth,” Klaus repeats and shrugs a little. “He never named us. My mom picked out the name Klaus when I was... hm, nine? Ten?”

 

“He what?!” Dave’s sadness is immediately swept away by anger.

 

It makes Klaus rolls his eyes a little. “And that’s not the half of it, sweetums. Just... leave my tragic backstory alone for a little while longer, yeah? This is too nice for me to give up.”

 

And that makes Dave want to reassure Klaus that he’s not going anywhere; to profess his undying love or make promises of forever. That’s not what Klaus needs, though. So he winks and leers and playfully drags his thumb across Klaus’ plush bottom lip. “That’s fine,” he coos. “I can think of something else for you to give up,” He leers for good measure.

 

“Dave!” Klaus gasps dramatically, relief clear on his face through the play-acting. “Let’s settle for a kiss and then breakfast, deal?”

 

“Deal.”

 

 

_~ Two ~ Klaus’ 141st Day in Vietnam ~_

 

 

Klaus... is shot. Klaus is shot and Dave carry-drags him through the mile of stinking, war torn jungle to the medical tent and then paces for two hours outside until some poor nurse is sent to retrieve him.

 

“He’s doing great,” Anna -Klaus’ favorite karaoke partner- says. “He’s going to keep his arm. He’ll probably walk out of here tomorrow and be bugging you on patrol by Monday.”

 

Dave practically crumples with relief. “Can I...?”

 

“Of course,” Anna says and steps out of the way for Dave to enter the grimy, stuffy tent.

 

He stumbles along the rows of sleeping and wailing men until he finds Klaus, pale and tired looking but so, so alive. “Hey, sunshine,” he whispers, daring to press a quick kiss to Klaus’ sweaty forehead.

 

“Hey, soldier,” Klaus breathes, smiling up at Dave like nothing’s wrong. “Come to get your reward for dragging my sorry ass to safety?”

 

Dave rolls his eyes. “Can we save the jokes about how you almost died until you’re actually out of the hospital?”

 

“Almost-? Dave, you’re so dramatic!” Klaus makes a manic gesture with his good arm. “It’s a graze!”

 

The blond feels his blood pressure sky rocket. “Yeah, a graze from a bullet!” He all but shouts, ignoring Anna’s hushing.

 

“You...” Klaus’ face goes slack. “Oh. You were really worried about me.” His tone holds... wonder, as if the concept of someone worrying about him is completely foreign.

 

“Of course I was worried! I love you!” He pushes as much affection into the words as he can, grasping Klaus’ good hand -‘goodbye’, ironically enough- and pressing a kiss to the knuckles.

 

Green eyes meet blue and Dave knows without a doubt that every cheesy romance novel he stole from his sister was right; soulmates are real and Dave’s is sitting right in front of him.

 

Klaus licks his lips and blinks. “I love you, too. You’re-” Klaus cuts himself off with a big yawn. “Oh gees, sorry,” he apologizes. “Guess I’m sleepy.”

 

Dave lets go of his hand. “No, you should sleep. I’ll be here.”

 

“Okay,” Klaus slurs. “Night,” he manages as he rolls over.

 

Dave tugs the edge of the sheet over his bandaged arm. “Night,” he whispers back.

 

He stays for long enough that the skirmish they’d been fighting sizzles out and the tent slowly becomes more and more crowded. Lots of guys are carted in with injuries similar to Klaus’ and burns and chemical wounds. One poor soul is carted in burnt to a crisp and crying out in pain and Dave has to look away when he’s dumped into the bed next to Klaus.

 

He’s not going to make it, Dave can see that much, and he isn’t surprised when the doctor instructs Anna to grab the man’s dog tags.

 

“Poor soul,” she whispers, hands fluttering from the IV she’d set up to at least keep the man unconscious while he drifts off. “His poor family.”

 

Dave squeezes his eyes shut. “They won’t know for months, at the rate mail is moving.”

 

Anna hums sympathetically, carefully pulling the dog tags free and holding them up to the light. “Charles Manger,” she reads, voice shaking

 

“...what?” Dave croaks.

 

His heart goes still. His ears get fuzzy. He fumbles blindly for the tags, ripping them from Anna’s weak grip. Manger. He reads the name but it doesn’t feel real. It’s like a bad dream. The whole day; Klaus getting shot, Manger getting caught in an explosion. They’re the types of things that happen in his nightmares.

 

His bedside vigil for Klaus turns into a wake for Manger and the rest of the guys slowly filter in and out -White, Boyle, Monty, Wolfe- whispering different variations of prayers and curses over the dying man. Klaus sleeps through the whole thing, pain killers dripping steadily into his eager veins.

 

The last thing Dave does before he drifts off is press another quick kiss to the man’s temple.

 

~_~_~

 

Dave wakes slowly -he always has, one of the things that makes him such a shitty soldier- and he hears a familiar voice to his right.

 

“No, you dog!” Klaus giggles and the sound puts a smile on Dave’s lips. “There is no way you had a threesome with two Playboy Bunnies!” Klaus pauses and then laughs a moment later. “Manger, stop telling tales!”

 

_...what?_

 

“Well, obviously I’ve had threesomes- Yes, Manger, but I’m a slut.” Another long pause, this time ending in Klaus’ huff of annoyance. “Never mind, you crochety bastard,” he grunts.

 

Dave hears him shifting on the bed and it’s enough to convince him to open his eyes. What he finds is his boyfriend glaring surly at the empty bed where Manger had lain dying no less than three hours ago. “Klaus?”

 

He turns and grins widely. “Davey! Morning, sleepy head,” Klaus greets, waggling his hand in greeting.

 

“Who, uh,” Dave swallows and glances at the empty bed. “Who’re you talking to?”

 

“Manger?” Klaus explains, confused.

 

And maybe he sees something on Dave’s face or maybe he puts the clues together, but his skin goes white and his eyes go wide. “No,” he whispers. “Fuck- no, no, no! Manger, no, no, no, no-”

 

Dave reaches out a hand. “Hey, baby, it’s okay-” He tries, voice calm as can make it.

 

“No! No! This isn’t fucking fair!” Klaus shouts, thrashing around like child throwing a tantrum. “He isn’t supposed to get stuck!”

 

“Stuck-? What? Klaus, calm down!” Dave presses down on Klaus’ good arm and gently tries to pin his right but the other man doesn’t seem to notice.

 

He starts to blubber, speech quickly becoming unintelligible. Dave catches, “just like Ben,” and, “you should have told me,” and, “fucking suitcase,” but mostly, Klaus just sobs. Deep, heart wrenching sobs that sound so broken, Dave can only cling to the other man and choke on his own tears.

 

 

_~ Three ~ Klaus’ 164th Day in Vietnam ~_

 

 

Life goes on.

 

They mourn Manger. Klaus smokes almost constantly and downs his pills twice as fast before Dave manages to get him to slow down. Boyle and White bicker endlessly and Wolfe sits around in his own filth for a whole week, staring at the wall and eating only when Captain Peterson forces him. The first thing he says freely, after almost three weeks, takes the whole tent by surprise.

 

“We should play a game of cards,” he suggests. “Manger would be pissed if he heard we stopped playing.”

 

“That’s a good idea,” says Dave, who’s played nothing but solitaire in weeks. Nobody else was willing to touch the well worn decks when they’d shipped the rest of Manger’s things home.

 

Klaus suggest Kentucky poker -Manger’s favorite- and soon they’re circled around an empty crate, cigarettes and cards evenly dispersed. It ends up being mostly fun and only a little depressing and they all share their favorite stories of their fallen friend while bickering over rules.

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Klaus blabs halfway through, both hands -one delicately gripping a joint, the other clumsily holding his cards- fluttering in the air. “Explain the rules again?”

 

White groans. “You’re the one who picked this game!” He protests.

 

“Pleeaaase?” Klaus whines, playfully fluttering his eyelashes at the man.

 

Dave feels a deep fondness tug at his chest. “It goes high card, pair, three of a kind, full house, straight, flush, royal straight, four of a kind, royal flush.”

 

“Spook, get your head outta your joint and pay attention,” grumbles Boyle, who’s already down a whole carton of cigarettes and eager to win back his rations.

 

From across the table, Dave snorts “How’s a man who can’t even remember the rules winning?” He asks the circle at large.

 

“Dumb luck?” Suggests Wolfe.

 

“Or he’s hustling us?” Monty laughs over the sound of Klaus’ protests. “Him and Katz are probably playing us like a fiddle.”

 

They all rib the pair for the rest of the game and they take it with good natured grins and shrugs. Dave does find it odd, though, that Klaus consistently plays the right cards, even when he has to clarify what game they’re playing half way through. He makes certain decisions that make no sense but then are the obvious choices once Klaus’ opponent has played his hand.

 

Dave taps out for the last game, instead choosing to lounge over the back of Klaus’ chair and observe. “Play that one,” he suggests at a certain point.

 

“I wanna play the heart,” Klaus whispers, shaking his head.

 

“I don’t think that’s a good one,” Dave argues. “Play the spade, trust me.”

 

Klaus gives him a wink that’s far too telling for mixed company. “Mind your own cards, Katz-y,” he commands before playing the heart.

 

...and promptly losing. The men left at the table cheer as Boyle rakes in the cigarettes piled high and Klaus lets out a pathetic, childish groan.

 

“I told you not to play the heart,” Dave chides, teasing.

 

Klaus shrugs. “Yeah, but Manger said to-.”

 

“What?!” The crowd is too rowdy for anybody else to have noticed, but Dave‘s heart ratchets in his chest. “Did you just say...?”

 

“What? Oh, shit. No?” Klaus squeaks before dropping his cards and scuttling away.

 

Dave follows -always, always following Klaus- and shouts for him to stop. “Slow down,” he whisper-yells as they pass a tent of sleeping men.

 

Klaus doesn’t turn, keeps striding away. “Gotta piss!”

 

So Dave lets Klaus run off and hide, even though he knows, _he_ _knows_ , exactly what Klaus just said. Manger.

 

Who’s died.

 

 

_~ Four ~ Klaus’ 207th Day in Vietnam ~_

 

 

He keeps observing, but more quietly this time. He doesn’t confront Klaus again -the memories of Klaus’ face when he tricked him into responding to Four and calling him out on Manger still fresh in his mind- but he soaks in Klaus’ quirks and ticks like a sponge.

 

He loves his hand tattoos so much that he gets them touched up while the squad gets their matching service tattoos together but he refuses to talk about the weathered umbrella on his lower arm. He is amazing at ancient history but recent history is crap shoot. He can juggle, play guitar, and apply makeup to the nurses with a steady hand but he can’t throw a baseball for shit and he actually laughs when Dave offers him a spin in the humvee.

 

“I can’t drive.”

 

“You need a license to graduate basic?” Dave points out.

 

Klaus smirks. “Guess nobody around was stupid enough to let me behind the wheel.”

 

Dave looks around and slides a step closer. “What about in the back seat?” He whispers, voice low.

 

Which is how they end up in the back of a supply truck -turns out there wasn’t enough room in the humvee- sticky and sated. Music from the mess hall drifts to them on the humid jungle breeze and, for some reason, Klaus laughs one of his giddy, excited laughs (Dave’s second favorite, after his relaxed and sleepy laugh). When Dave quirks an eyebrow in question, Klaus lets his eyelids flutter shut.

 

“ _Close your eyes, girl, look inside, girl, let the sound take you away_ ,” he croons, voice soft. “I think I lost my virginity to this song.”

 

There’s a lot of things Dave could say to that, ‘You had sex to Steppenwolf?!’ being the first thing that comes to mind, closely followed by, ‘what do you mean you _think_?’ But what he does say is, “this song came out less than a year ago?”

 

“Oh, right.” Klaus winces. His face screws up in a look of misery and he busies himself with pulling his boots on.

 

Dave follows his example. In the almost six months that they’ve been together, he’s finally started to learn- a skittish Klaus is a soon to disappear Klaus. “It’s fine if I was your-,” he starts.

 

“No,” Klaus interrupts. “No, I started boning-” _boning?_ “-way too young, don’t think that I was some saint. I was just confused.”

 

Dave nods easily. “Okay.”

 

“Okay,” Klaus repeats and ducks to start lacing his boots.

 

So he drops it. But it gives him a thought. A thought so crazy that Dave thinks that maybe he’s finally lost it.

 

 

_~ Five ~ Klaus’ 239th Day in Vietnam ~_

 

Dave likes to think he’s a reasonable man. He doesn’t believe in horoscopes or crazy conspiracy theories but he does admit that ghosts and aliens are probably real, if not yet understood. He does not, however, think that he will ever have any real world application for these beliefs.

 

He obviously didn’t take Klaus into account when he set these standards for himself.

 

Despite the fact that Dave is enthusiastically gay, growing up in a staunchly Jewish house in a Midwestern town kept him fairly isolated from the queer community. Klaus, on the other hand, is so passionately... not straight that he seems to know everything about the homosexual lifestyle.

 

He says things like “internalized homophobia” and “sexualization of queer youths” and “LGTB rights are no laughing matter.”

 

“What does LGBT mean?” Dave had asked.

Klaus had winces and shrugged. “I’m just blabbering, Dave, don’t listen to me.”

 

And one thing he passionately talks about is the riot of Stonewall Inn in 1966. Dave had never heard of it before but he eagerly listens to Klaus’ tales of rioting drag queens and dykes telling the police where they can shove their prejudice. It was exciting and liberating and he couldn’t wait for when him and Klaus were back state-side. They’d go to the site of the riots and celebrate and maybe Dave would be brave enough to kiss him in public and-

 

“Hey, Katz,” calls Monty, tugging Dave out of his daydreams. “Look at this.”

 

He sits up on his cot and sets aside the deck of cards he’d been shuffling on instinct. “Yeah?”

 

Monty tosses him a dirty newspaper. “Looks like you and Hargreeves missed a party,” he quips, like he’s making some kind of inside joke.

 

“What do you...?” Dave trails off, taking in the paper’s headline. It’s over two weeks old -it takes awhile to get mail to ‘Nam- and the words are strangely familiar.

 

Homophile Riots Rock New York - Trouble at the Stonewall Inn

 

_...what?_

Dave finds Klaus a few tents over, bickering with Anna about something fashion related.

 

“Klaus, we need to talk,” he bites out, tone stiff.

 

“Okay, give me a-” Dave grabs ahold of the other man and yanks him towards the tree line, causing him to yelp. “Sake’s alive, Dave!”

 

Dave only tugs harder. “Now,” he manages.

 

Klaus makes a bewildered noise but gives in and follows him a few paces into the thick jungle. When they’re out of ear-shot, he plants his hands on his hips pointedly and stares. “So?”

 

“So this,” Dave states dryly and unfurls the newspaper, headline forward.

 

“Oh,” Klaus mumbles faintly, face going pasty. “Well, that’s... sixty- _nine_. Damn.”

 

Dave lets his eyes fall shut. “I’m trying to understand here, sweetheart. I can’t be on your side if you don’t explain.” The silence that follows is deafening and when Klaus starts mumbling to himself, Dave easily catches the snippets of usually lost conversation.

 

“No, I’m not telling him-” Klaus starts pacing and Dave watches as his fingers go through the familiar motions of shaking out a cigarette and quickly flicking his lighter with his thumb. “Because he’ll think I’m crazy,” Klaus hisses lowly after a long pause. “Well, crazier, anyways.” He laughs, dark and quiet, spinning on his heels to point at thin air. “Shut your pie hole, Manger.”

 

Dave’s mouth interrupts without his brain’s permission. “You just said his name. You did it again,” he says, tone accusatory.

 

Klaus winces and curls in on himself. “Dave...”

 

“What?!” Dave snaps when Klaus just trails off.

 

“It’s... hard to explain,” Klaus starts, looking down at the boots that he always complains about. “I don’t want you to hate me.”

 

Dave crosses his arms over his chest. “Maybe you should let me decide that for myself,” he responds bitterly.

 

The skinny man shakes his head. “I can’t handle- it’s not- ugh! Can’t you just trust me?!”

 

“Why?!” Dave yells back, suddenly furious. “You never, ever trust me! Not with anything!”

 

“I- Dave, I-” Klaus’ eyes go wide and his ‘goodbye’ hand flutters up to cover his mouth.

 

The soldier cuts him off with a firm shake of his head. “No. No, I’m done. If the man I love doesn’t love me back enough to share his life with me...” He trails off and shakes his head. “I’m going to bed,” he finishes.

 

Klaus lets out a small sob. “Baby, wait-”

 

Dave stomps off, unwillingly to hear that next of Klaus’ lies and excuses.

 

 

_~ Plus ~ Klaus’ 240th Day in Vietnam ~_

 

 

They don’t talk for the rest of the day.

 

When Dave wakes up the next morning, Klaus’ cot is empty and neatly made. Even his luggage is missing, both his rucksack and his suitcase he brought from the states. He feels an itch in his stomach, anxiety unfurling like a flood.

 

Monty must notice him staring, because the other man snaps his fingers. “He cleared out last night. What’d you do?”

 

Dave winces. “I didn’t think he’d be mad enough to go find a new tent,” he says instead of answering directly.

 

“Well, you should go find him,” Monty offers in a bored tone before turning back to his book. “Without him around, I’m the worst football player and you know how much I hate losing.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m just gonna...” Dave pushes out of bed and blindly shoves his feet into his boots, not bothering with a shirt.

 

He wanders around camp for almost half an hour before Anna -bless her soul- points towards the nurse’s tent. She gives Dave a skeptical look before crossing her arms. “You better not break his heart.”

 

Dave nods dumbly. “I- I don’t want to,” he promises before slipping around her and ducking into the forbidden tent.

 

“Klaus?” He calls, carefully stepping over rolled up pantyhoes and almost stepping on a partially assembled rifle. “Sunshine, you in here?”

 

“No,” comes the sullen response, tone dripping sarcasm.

 

Dave pushes past a curtain the find Klaus curled up around his suitcase on the ground. He crouches and reaches out, stopping himself when Klaus flinches back. He swallows dryly before whispering out, “hey.”

 

Klaus rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to tell me off again,” he mutters. “I get it. We’re over.”

 

Blood running cold in his veins, Dave shakes his head wildly. “No! No, I was just mad,” he whispers, tears prickling in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Klaus. Baby, I’m sorry,” he gushes, words stumbling over each other.

 

“You’re... sorry?” Klaus repeats, baffled and wide eyed.

 

“So, so sorry,” Dave babbles. “I’ll never yell at you again, please don’t leave me!”

 

Klaus shifts the briefcase to the side. “I... but you broke up with me last night.”

 

Dave stills. “No, I didn’t,” he argues, confused.

 

The pair sits in silence for a beat too long- before they both crack manic laughs; Dave a short chuff and Klaus a high pitched giggle. They both visibly relax and Dave slowly reaches out again, giving Klaus the chance to move away. He doesn’t, instead pressing the weight of his cheek into Dave’s palm eagerly.

 

“I love you,” he vows, eyes solemn.

 

Dave leans in and presses the gentlest of kisses to Klaus’ forehead. “If it’s even half as much as I love you, that makes me the luckiest man on the planet.”

 

Klaus cracks a watery smile before sitting up a little. “I want to tell you my secrets, Davey, I really do. It’s just...” He trails of and squeezes his eyes shut, releasing a little whimper.

 

“Can I-?” Dave coughs and bites his lip. “I could try and guess? But you have to promise not to laugh at me.”

 

“But you’re just so funny,” Klaus jokes, tone playfully innocent.

 

Dave gives a soft laugh. “I’m serious.”

 

When Klaus nods and makes a ‘keep going’ gesture, Dave slowly settles himself onto the dirt floor and gathers the other man up into his arms.

 

“So,” he starts, hesitant. “I have... two theories. One’s a little comic book-y and one’s a little... horror movie.” When Klaus only grunts, he forges on. “My first theory is... you can... talk to dead people?” It comes out like a question and he doesn’t stop, even as he feels Klaus stiffen in his hold. “Either that or you’re... from the future...”

 

Saying it out loud, Dave feels ridiculous. He starts to blush -an embarrassing trait he’s never been able to shake- and moves to pull away. “Sorry, this is stupid,” he mumbles.

 

Klaus catches him in a surprisingly strong grip. “No, it isn’t.”

 

_...what?_

 

“What?” Dave says aloud, staring at Klaus incredulously.

 

“It isn’t stupid,” Klaus breathes. His green eyes are wide and shining and his lip is quivering. He gently -so, so, gently- reaches out to trace a finger along the frame of Dave’s face. “It’s not a stupid thing to say. You’re- damn, Davey. How can you be so pretty and so smart at the same time? I didn’t realize that that was allowed.”

 

Dave laughs on instinct before his brain catches up. “Are you saying...?” He laughs again, this time incredulously. “But- which is it?!” Dave demands, thoughts going a mile a minute.

 

Klaus smiles, that sort of shy smile that Dave so rarely sees on his lover’s face. “Both.”

 

“Both?” Dave echoes.

 

“Both,” Klaus confirms. He nudges at the underside of Dave’s jaw with his nose. “You must have questions.”

 

And of course Dave could ask a lot of things. What year are you from, how did you get here, are there any ghosts here now, is that what the drugs are for. But instead, the thing that pops out of his mouth is-

 

“Holy shit. Manger’s been helping you cheat at cards.”

 

Klaus’ giddy giggle is all Dave needs to know that they’ll be alright.

 

 

~_~_~_~

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave feedback and ideas for further enteries into this series! Thank you!


End file.
